I thought I had an honest-to-FSM ghost story to share with you guys today, but as Marc explained to me quite rationally and patiently, it wasn’t. So there I was, lying in bed, enjoying the warmth of my blankets and the smell of my hot lover man’s shampoo on the pillows, and feeling pretty damn happy despite my serious jonesing for pho (I haven’t had pho in months. There was this awesome Vietnamese restaurant close to our house in San Diego, but then I moved to Newport Beach for lurve and all of a sudden, the closest down-home Vietnamese restaurant is, like, effin’ 15 miles away. What the shit is that?). I was feeling languid and relaxed… chillaxin’, if I may, and even indulgent enough that I was allowing Tom to lick my eyebrows (I don’t let him get away with that shit usually. Do you have any idea what a cat be lickin’ at his leisure?). So Tom and I, we’re cool, we’re chillaxin’ in the bed, and Marc is puttering around in the kitchen making coffee… THEN THE MOTHAFUCKIN’ TEEVEE TURNS ON BY ITSELF!!! LIKE, OMGWTFBBQ!!!11!!![one]!! Damn, you should have seen my ass jump out of bed. I had never been so scared in my life. I ran like I was a suspicious lookin’ dude on Law & Order SVU and this tough ladycop was eyeballin’ me like she wants to curb-stomp my perpetratin’ ass when I was just standing on a street corner enjoying a delicious Gray’s Papaya. Like WTF, LADYCOP! Only the ladycop was a frickin’ long-haired, skinny Japanese chick with a fucked-up eye and wearing a dirty white nightgown and crawling out of my 19-inch Phillips like she wants to get all up in my soul and shit. All of a sudden, I was standing in the kitchen butt-naked except for a white thong that says I HEART MY PRESIDENT on the front and had crawled up my ass, trying to remember if I had watched some mysterious videotape seven days ago and forgotten about it and Marc was looking at me like I had lost my damn mind. Meanwhile, Tom had squirreled up his three-story kitty condo and stuck his head under Rupert and refused to come down for three hours even when I said I was sorry and offered to open up a can of Chicken of the Sea and made a can-opener noise with my mouth. Anyway, this was the convo between me and Marc

BAM: OMGWTFBBQ, the crazy-eyed chick from the Ring is after me!Marc: [holding an NES Super Mario Brothers mug and staring at me like I was nuts] The neighbors can see yours chichis and if they happen to have Superman vision, your extreme love for our 44th president, Mr. Barack H. Obama.BAM: THE TEEVEE TURNED ON BY ITSELF AND SADAKO IS TRYING TO GET ME!Marc: [sighing] Maybe you rolled over on the remote or something?BAM: NO! IT’S SADAKO and NOW I’M GOING TO DIE AND THE COPS ARE GOING TO FIND ME WITH MY FACE FROZEN IN TERR— yeah, ok, maybe. Huh.Marc: You want some coffee?BAM: No.Marc: How about an Eggo?BAM: No.

And then I went back to bed and guess what? The remote was nowhere to be found, not on the bed or that little gap between the bed and the nightstand. So I was back to freaking out again, convinced I had somehow brought upon an ancient Japanese curse on my head, when I looked at Marc’s side of the bed and found the remote hiding under the pillows. Boo.

What surprised me about the whole thing was the disappointment I felt when I realized I didn’t experience something supernatural. Like, did I want Sadako to be coming after me for real? Hell no! I’d rather be feeling stupid than murdered by some creepy long-haired freak that had crawled out of a well in Japan and out of the TV for no reason whatsoever!

UPDATE: Speaking of mysterious videotapes, someone left me a VHS copy of KPAX on our front door. Like, why would anyone do that? AND WHY VHS? I don’t even have a tape player! Is someone in my neighborhood convinced that I just have to experience all that Kevin Spacey and Jeff Bridges cheese for myself? Really!?! Seriously, man, it freaked me out.

Yeah… I was at Gelson’s Market the other day and there were all these women in perfectly-shaped bobs wearing sweater sets in pastels and I was like, “Damn, this is not Bam’s world at all.”

The other day, I parked my dirty, beat-up VW Jetta a little too close to this lady’s very nice BMW convertible and you should have seen her face as she was trying to squeeze in between her car and mine. Lady, it’s just dirt, it’s not gonna give you cancer! Maybe…

Wow. Rock, begone! Bam is back! Okay, so I exaggerate slightly. However, it’s nice to see you here rather than texting me one liners. I will re-read the piece like I promised…and yes, I’ll do it now. Oy.

LMFAO! I can just see you in the kitchen with your thong and all nekkid. And you gotta love your man, who’s just calm as hell about you freaking out. It’s nice to have a man who understands us, isn’t it?

Ha! Proof of life! Now I can pester you about Daisy… Hmm? What’s up with that?

Speaking of unsupernatural, I did NOT investigate the crash from the living room when I was home alone years ago. Well, not completely alone, the cat was there, climbing the Christmas tree and… Timber!

I’ve got a similar story about being home alone, doing the dishes, when a fan turned on all by itself somewhere else in the house. I can’t tell the story as well as you, however, so I mostly keep it to myself. My husband was quite skeptical about it when I related the incident to him later, and decided it must have been an electrical surge or something. I’m not buying that explanation, though – it was an otherworldly communication of some sort, I just know it.